


I will sing the song of the mighty lord, the man of battle - SPN/Gilgamesh Fusion

by loveinadoorway



Category: Epic of Gilgamesh, Supernatural
Genre: Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I tried to work my way into the language of the epic, at least a bit. People in the LJ community liked this, so.... let's see if you do.<br/>Title: I will sing the song of the mighty lord, the man of battle – prompt #40 Gilgamesh epic, tablet 6 (Ishtar and the Bull of Heaven)<br/>Disclaimer: I believe there’s nobody left standing to claim copyright on Gilgamesh, Enkidu and the rest. Our boys, naturally, belong to the powers that be and I only borrow, as always and return them faithfully, if a bit the worse for wear.<br/>Rating: NC-17<br/>Genre: slash<br/>Spoilers: none<br/>Word Count: ~1468 not counting the quote<br/>Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas, Pamela as Ishtar<br/>Warnings: man-on-man action, goddesses, gory bulls, author waxing poetic, impending doom being hinted at<br/>Summary: The goddess Ishmela desires Deangamesh, but is rejected. In her wrath, she sends the Bull of Heaven. Deangamesh dares Caskidu to go and kill the Bull with him.<br/>I'm somewhat certain that the prompter was expecting the fight and beginning of friendship thing, but I somehow went with... this, sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will sing the song of the mighty lord, the man of battle - SPN/Gilgamesh Fusion

“I will sing the song of the man of battle, the man of battle. I will sing the song of Lord Gilgameš, the man of battle, I will sing the song of him with the well-proportioned limbs, the man of battle. I will sing the song of the mighty lord, the man of battle. I will sing the song of athletic strength, the man of battle.”  
The Gilgamesh Epic

They had killed the demon Humbaba, but it had cost them dearly.  
Too dearly for a wild adventure that had supposed to be entertaining.  
They wearily made their way back to Uruk, barely speaking a word, barely even touching.  
It had not gone as planned and Caskidu had bitterly berated the king for undertaking this madcap hunt when nothing good could ever come of it right from the start. They had enraged the gods and that was never a good thing.  
Clouds were gathering overhead.

Back at the palace, Deangamesh started to clean himself up and his servants dressed him in his royal cloak and placed the golden band of his crown on his brow.  
He was frowning at the darkening sky as the slaves slipped a ring on his thumb and bracelets on his arms. They had vanquished the demon and cut the holy cedar tree.  
Why did his lover talk of bad omens and doom, when he should be drinking to their success?  
Why did this victory taste bitter, like ashes?

The king cut a dashing figure, Caskidu thought as he watched the whole process with desire in his piercing blue eyes.  
His gaze raked over his lover’s body, the convex and concave design of his muscular torso so infinitely fascinating, so perfect in the soft twilight.  
He knew it couldn’t last.  
Dean was king and he was a nobody, someone who walked in from the wilds. In the end, it would not matter that Dean’s mother had made him her second son.  
He was and would always be a nobody.  
And it could not last.

But at night, there was no mighty king Deangamesh and no lowly Caskidu, there were just Dean and Cas and they only listened to the language their bodies spoke.  
Cas would lick hot paths all over Dean’s body and Dean would writhe and moan for him.  
Dean would bite down on Cas’ nipples and tease his lover’s testicles with his wickedly deft fingers, running a sword-calloused hand over Cas’ ass.  
Cas would take Dean’s shaft into his mouth and lavish attentions all over it, toying with the slitted tip and swallowing the hard member down deep.  
Dean would come, screaming Cas’ name, hot semen rushing down Cas’ throat and Cas would enter Dean and wring his own release from Dean’s tight hole as he brought Dean over the edge yet again.

Caskidu recalled with crystalline clarity the day they had met.  
How they had fought each other, both fiercely determined to win, neither giving an inch, no matter the cost.  
How Deangamesh had won the fight in the end.  
How the king had stood there, strangely lost in the face of his victory.  
How his green eyes had raked over Cas’ sweat-covered body.  
How fire had kindled in those magnificent eyes and how, finally, when Cas had thought he couldn’t breathe anymore from the stress of their intense regard, the king had stepped forward, closing the distance between them and had caught Cas’ lips in a searing, soul-shattering kiss.  
A kiss that changed everything. A kiss that gave Caskidu hope.

There were people who begrudged them their closeness.  
People who warned anyone willing to listen about Caskidu’s undue influence over their king.  
He had changed Deangamesh, people said.  
Had softened the harshness, had reigned in the arrogance that had once led Deangamesh to take jus primae nocte, in fact to take everything and everyone he wanted.  
Caskidu knew, however, that he hadn’t changed the king. He had changed the man, had changed his lover. Deangamesh had known no bounds, being the strongest man who lived, being literally two thirds god and one thirds human. Cas had made him understand that the human third of his body and soul was what was important and Dean had listened and changed his ways.  
Cas had taught Dean to love.

It couldn’t last.  
None of it could last.  
And when Deangamesh was singled out by the goddess of sexual love, Ishmela, Caskidu knew they were doomed.  
She made promises.  
She always made promised to her intended lovers. Big, tempting promises of rich crops, fattened animals and general affluence and happiness.  
She asked him to marry her. It was more of an order than a question, Caskidu thought.  
She stood before the king, regally and oh so tempting, her sultry body decked in unearthly finery and her beautiful tresses gleaming in the glow of a thousand candles and torches.

Deangamesh was trying to buy some time, trying to put off the decision.  
He worried his lower lip and his right hand ran over the pelt that decorated his throne. It had come to him through the trade route from the South, the animal’s name music in his ears. Impala… it sounded wild and exotic, it spoke of gazelles dancing across plains, dancing away from the hungry lions that chased them.  
His thoughts returned reluctantly to the here and now.  
It was never a good thing to attract the attentions of a goddess and Ishmela in particular was going to become a problem.

Ishmela’s human lovers would inevitably always meet with terrible fates, so Deangamesh proudly, stubbornly and insultingly refused her offer of marriage.  
Besides, he had found the world in Caskidu’s arms, why should he take the goddess for a wife?  
His lover’s blue eyes captured the sky and the blessings of the ancient gods were with them when they lay together. He would not give that up for all the riches from all the lands known to man.  
Deangamesh stood before the goddess, proud and beautiful, muscles flexing under fine cloth as he turned Ishmela down with earth-shattering finality.

They were doomed.  
The goddess was beyond enraged and Ishmela had ways of punishing those who refused her that went beyond anything Cas had ever heard or seen before.  
The goddess sent the Bull of Heaven.  
The Bull belonged to her father, the god of the sky Anu and he was not at all eager to allow his daughter to unleash the horror of the Bull on Uruk. But in the end, he had to relent, for the goddess Ishmela threatened to release the dead from the Netherworld to eat the living. He gave her the lead tied to the Bull’s nose ring and sent her on her way with a sigh.

She led the Bull down to Uruk herself.  
The crops failed, the animals died, a great drought ravaged the kingdom.  
When the bull snorted, the earth opened and hundreds of people fell through the holes in the ground to their deaths. Its horns were terrible weapons, its hooves trampled people and animals alike to death, its hot, fetid breath spread diseases wherever it went.  
Nothing and no one could stop the monster, so the people of Uruk clamored for the help of their king. Born of the gods and equipped with the prowess of the immortals, he was their only hope.

Caskidu and Deangamesh were battling the Bull.  
There was no progress to be seen.  
They attacked, the Bull parried and they had to use all their skills to avoid its razor sharp horns. Half a ton of tightly coiled muscle raged against them over and over again.  
After attack upon attack, Cas managed to seize the bull by the tail. He knew instinctively in his warrior heart that there was only one way to kill the Bull of Heaven and so he quickly shouted instructions at Deangamesh to thrust his knife into a small area behind the horns. Dean complied and the Bull broke down almost immediately.

Dean made the customary sacrifices to the gods, trying to pacify them with ritual offerings of flesh, blood and bone. When Ishmela bitterly berated him for killing the Bull, Dean threw one of the Bull’s haunches at her.  
Cas stood silently at his side, doubting that the sacrifices would do any good at all.  
He kept his doubts to himself, though, as his lover gave orders to deck the halls and prepare a great feast to celebrate their victory.  
It wouldn’t do at all to spread doom and gloom when the king was hell-bent on making merry.

They made drunken love in the king’s chamber afterwards, a tangle of limbs, a symphony of flesh. As Dean drove himself into his lover, the world fell back one last time and time stood still for them. And when they came together, nothing mattered in this moment except their love.  
When Dean had fallen asleep, Caskidu walked out of the great hall to stand underneath the stars. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs to the brim with the clean night air.  
It could not last, the starry sky whispered into his ear.  
It will not last, his heart sang to him.  
And he knew his doom was nigh.


End file.
